Friday, February 27, 2009
Apparently, the right cyst was putting enormous pressure on lil' ol' ovary, twisting it and cutting off blood flow. So, I had to bid farewell to part of my babymaking parts. :( (That's me being generally bummed and too zoned on pain meds to more cleverly / poignantly articulate how I feel about this. Ovaries, I publicly apologize for the melon baller comment!!!)
J said he would have 2/3rds of his right testicle removed in a sign of solidarity. We're probably not going to do that.
This was my first 'real' surgery (other than having my wisdom teeth pulled back in 1993), so I was a bit skittish to hear about the breathing tube and potential anesthesia complications. I don't remember this, but the minute they put the sedative in my artery (or does it go in a vein?), I was OUT. J said I started hiccuping like crazy and slurred, "Oh wow, that was unexpected!"
God, even under major sedation I find a way to add dorky commentary to a given situation. I wouldn't be surprised to hear I sat up halfway through surgery to Cliff Clavin them with a little fact I'd just learned: that ALL of our pee smells like sulfer after we eat asparagus--some of us just lack the genetic material to SMELL it.
Also? J is famous everywhere we go. First, we discover that our favorite restaurant employs a girl he used to have a major crush on in high school (he even had her senior picture in his wallet TWELVE YEARS LATER, and while we were eating during that discovery and probably because I made fun of him about this, he stuck the photo in a potted plant near our table. She probably was really freaked out by that.) Second, guess who was working behind the desk across from my OR prep room? Yep! A "girl who used to have the hots for" J.
I was going to scan and include some photos from my laprascopy, but some of you might be eating. Just trust me when I tell you they were gross and alarming. Like, watching-The Discovery Channel"I can't believe this guy has a whole tumor hanging from his face!" gross. At least they were to me.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to hold a private little thing to mourn the lost of part of my ovary. The doc says it can regenerate, so here's hoping. Here's also hoping my cyst issues are behind me!!!!
PS: Demitri Martin makes me chuckle. So I'll probably be TIVOing him for later, until my tummy heals.
Monday, February 23, 2009
She is? Maybe not...
When I asked about the origin of the name "She is Risen," my sister smiled, looked a little embarrassed, and said, "Well, it's the beet chili. You know, beets are really red...it has to do with menstruation."Yum-O! Anyway, it WAS delicious, despite the moniker, and ultimately won the cook-off. Now, bro-in-law gets to make ten gallons of the stuff for the larger city-wide competition in two weeks.
Yeah, I'm cute. With my dog hat on. Wanna make something of it?
Guests were not only treated to a buffet of delightful chilis for the eatin' and the votin', they were also treated to live music and adorable toddlers on the loose...including my 18 month-old nephew, who made not one, not two, but THREE new girlfriends in the course of an hour. Unfortunately for him, his new babes were all a bit older than him, and much faster...so he could do little but stagger after them, arms outstretched, so hopped up on the thrill of the chase that he could only articulate excited grunts a la Frankenstein: "Ruuuuhhhhhh....FRIEND??!!!!!"
It was in the teens Sunday night, and our house was around 50 degrees. It was so cold our bananas were developing a gray sheen and you could almost see your breath. To stay warm, we huddled under layers of quilts and comforters. So. To recap: we'd eaten lots of chili with BEANS. The only position in which I could find ovarian comfort was a FETAL TUCK. And we were huddled under piles of HEAVY QUILTS.
Can you say "DUTCH OVEN FUN?"
The furnace is now fixed, but I am not...ovaries, I shake my fist at you in anger! I know I'll be feeling better again by the end of the week, but I hope this doesn't become a monthly thing with those little bastards. I'm trying hard to visualize healing white light and all that jazz, but I really just want to take a melon-baller to them.
All in all, I have to say I'm digging the whole cook-off challenge concept. There should be more of this! Featuring diverse dishes. Baked goods. (Oh god, I'm already salivating at the prospect of a brownie competition.) Appetizers. Lasagnas. Soups. Heirloom tomato taste-offs. You could rotate themes with the seasons. Iron Chef without the on-the-spot cooking or time limits. Talk about a win-win fundraiser!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Today I remembered that I haven't updated the blog since Monday, so let's see. A few updates:
1) I have had time to rent a movie or two. On deck tonight is Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, which follows last week's Zack & Miri Make a Porno. As I left the video store today I could very nearly hear the clerks whispering, "Oh, that's so sad! She still thinks she's in her mid-twenties!"
2) The house behind us sold, after two vacant years on the market. Because their deck and many windows overlook our tiny backyard that I spend lots of time in during summer, I am already freaking over the caliber of our new neighbors. Please be normal Please be normal Please be normal. The latest additions to our neighborhood were SUPERFUNGOODTIME kind of people, if your idea of SUPERFUNGOODTIMES involve late night ambulance visits, sirens, squad cars, screaming fights in public, and the idea that the man of the house is staring across the street at you, and your yard, "sketching your gardens" in his sketchpad.
3) I've been eating a lot of chocolate lately. My new favorite? Choxie milk chocolate with almonds and smoky sea salt. It's like a chocolate-covered pretzel, but BETTER.
4) When you work twelve hours straight at the computer and drive home late at night, would you fail a roadside sobriety test? I'm thinking it's possible!
Oh, guess what!!?!?! Just as I wrote this, a squad car whipped past, sirens and lights a-blazin.' Also, the dog crapped in the back hall and was trying to furtively eat it while still warm.
This is EXACTLY what Sheila E. meant by "The Glamorous Life."
Monday, February 16, 2009
Q. At home, what do you normally drink with meals?
The defensive: "None of your bussiness"
The lazy class clown: "Alcohol"
The destined for bizarre greatness: "I drink fatness and computers"
Q. Phy Ed is important because:
The unintentionally amusing: "It keeps us in the best shape of all the classes"
The unintentionally clever: "It’s a waist of an hour"
The honest: "It’s not"
The empathy award: "Lazy kids (not in sports) need to be active" AND "Get fat kids in shape"
The guy: "There are tits!" -AND- "Girls do jumping jacks"
Q. I dislike Phy Ed when:
Not a fan of team sports: "We play football, baseball, softball, or soccer. It eliminates a lot. I know."
Paging Pretty in Pink: "The preppy’s get treated better than us normal people."
Doesn’t want to Be Like Mike: "When we do dump crap like basketball."
The guy again: "There are no titties"
The Future Peace Negotiator: "Everyone is fighting and not getting along."
The kid who’s failing English but still adorable as hell: "When we play batmitten."
Voted most likely to pimp his own ride: "I’m not showin’ off my ballin’ skillz."
Watching too many Seth Rogan movies: "I’m not naked with other men."
Don’t I know it: "When we do fitness testing like sit and reach because I can’t stretch! :( "
Q. I like Phy Ed when:
The brownnoser: "I feel challenged but respected."
It scares me to know he may be a parent one day: "My team wins."
Idiocracy in action: "Plooy got hit in the nuts."
What PE curriculum is he following: "Days when I’m awake."
Again. What PE curriculum is he following: "We can sleep."
The nostalgic: "Everyone is acting like they are in first grade."
Well, at least he’s consistent: "I see some hot titties shakin’ it in the weight room!"
Friday, February 13, 2009
Right now, when I should be writing a Table of Contents and Abstract for my grant proposal, I'm fantasizing about Liz Lovely's cookies. Go look at the cowgirl cookies. How can you not resist that? Hang on....I'm going to go look again.
Okay, I'm back. I really don't want my reheated spaghetti for dinner now. I want Liz Lovely cookies. I tried her chocolate fudge cookies a few weeks ago...well, I didn't really TRY them so much as jam them into my mouth and nearly faint from the sheer taste bliss. Cocoa ecstacy. You couldn't really chew them; you kind of had to gum them, they were so dense and rich, and they were rolled in sugar...Soft cookies rolled in confectioners' sugar bring me to my knees.
Oh dear, this needs to stop.
I put together an online order of just four cookies, but the total with shipping came to $12. They really are worth $3 a cookie, but I know I could drive to Milwaukee and visit my sister and darling nephew AND get these divine cookies at Outpost--two sweet deals wrapped up in one.
The trick will be leaving my desk at some point in the next week, other than for the most necessary of human activities.
Consuming Liz Lovely cookies seems like a fairly necessary human activity, if you ask me.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
But the news on this front is not all heartbreaking. My seed packets have arrived (huzzah!) I have finished the most formidable of my remaining grants for the season (double huzzah!!) And I continue to meet with amazing book clubs full of intelligent, generous, inspiring women. (Thanks to all of them!!) Tonight I met with a fantastic crew at the Appleton Barnes & Noble…as we laughed over the anecdote in the book involving a male character experimenting with a strategically-placed carrot during an episode of self-…uh, well you get the picture, a burly man approached. He was wearing one of those hats with the sheepskin earflaps and rapist glasses.
“You guys look like you’re having way too much fun!” he commented. “No guys allowed?”
“You need a carrot to get in,” someone said under her breath, and we all laughed harder. The poor guy wandered away, confused.
I continue my quest for health improvement, with mixed results. I was experiencing a strange and irritating pain on the right side of my face on Saturday, and I figured it might be vitamin toxicity (I’m taking more supplements than you can shake a stick at. Well, you COULD shake a stick at them, but nothing would happen.) I skipped my daily dose on Sunday, but I haven’t learned my “Our Bodies Are Not Science Experiments, Young Lady!” lesson. Tonight I ate a bunch of bean soup, salad, and a Garden burger before meeting with the book club, so I prepared my digestive system with a bunch of probiotics & enzymes to avoid gassing the members of the book club to death. And now my stomach feels like I swallowed a small, stone garden gnome.
Also, I said I had an embarrassing story for you. (Other than my fart prevention initiatives.) This involves our garage door handles. Here’s a photo of them:
See that silvery metal poking through? A giant chip of the black paint fell off last fall. I told J that we needn’t worry, I saved the chip so we could glue it back on. I was so proud of myself for not only finding the chip, but having the wherewithal to pick it up before I drove over it so we could reattach it. Brilliant!
J, however, had a different reaction. “You don’t GLUE a paint chip back on! You repaint it, you goof!”
(And it gets weirder. J just asked me from the other room: "Are you listening to HORNS?" Me, already laughing: "No! What??!!" J: "It sounds like you're listening to The Farmer in the Dell on trumpets.")
I can only end with this:
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Years later, the widowed Sophie is free, and Banallt is determined to win the woman he still loves. Unfortunately, she doesn't believe his declaration of love and chivalrous offer of marriage-- her heart has already been broken by her scoundrel of a husband. And yet, Sophie is tempted to indulge in the torrid affair she's always fantasized about. Caught between her logical mind and her long-denied desire, Sophie must thwart Banallt's seduction-- or risk being consumed by the one man she should avoid at all costs...
2) Do you listen to music while you write? Sometimes. It depends. Sometimes I can't tolerate the distraction of my need to sing along or hum if there's no lyrics. Other times music is exactly what I need to get my mind off other stuff.
3) Have you found that as you've developed your writing and story telling skills, you watch movies or read books 'differently?' I'm not ashamed to admit I am one of those people who willingly suspends disbelief. Unless a movie really stinks (remake of Planet of the Apes) I love it. Then 1-2 days later, I might think, huh. Maybe it wasn't that great. Or not, especially if Jet Li was in the movie. With books, I also try to suspend my inner critic. But if the book is flawed, it's hard, if not impossible. When a book is great, I'm swept along, willingly and adoringly. My ability to analyze a piece of literature was pretty finely honed in grad school (which for the most part left out the discussions of craft that obsess most writers) so I can critique with the best of them, I like to think. But why spoil a fine book with that sort of deconstruction? That said, I think my experience of a book or movie is intrinsicly informed by the fact that I'm a writer; I'm now hard-wired to notice those things.
4) What vacation would be most inspiring to you as a writer? Vacation? What is this "vacation" of which you speak? Any vacation that gets me away from my house and my laptop.
5) What is one of your strangest / most quirky author experiences? I am very sorry, but I am too boring to answer this question. Though, one time I was at a book signing sitting next to another author and some guy came up and gave her a photograph of his penis. But, as you may have noted, this did not happen to me. And, yes, it was as creepy as it sounds.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
I've been cooking like a crazy woman now that my healthier eating program is in full swing. Evidence!
My somewhat off-center banana-flax-Fiber One muffins. They were massively goey in the center, which I adored. And yes, I did eat the goofy, suggestive-looking one because I've got strong Food Martyr tendencies. Just following in my Mom's footsteps. ("Oh, you kids eat the nice ones. I'll eat the burned one that fell on the floor and looks like it's covered in scabs.")
Recently (and by 'recently' I mean probably a month ago) I discovered this chrysalis husk attached to one of my winterberry shrubs. A reminder that summer, with all its attendant butterflies and flowers, is not too far away. Isn't that a wonderful thought in the dead of winter?
I just placed my heirloom seed order with Seed Savers Exchange (spinach, lettuce, swiss chard, 2 kinds of tomatoes, peppers, 2 kinds of basil, sunflowers, and something new: ground cherries!). Because I only have space to grow my own herbs & veggies in containers, I'm also going to buy a half-share of produce from one of two local CSA programs (Olden Produce and Good Earth Farm). Right now, Olden Produce is winning, because they offer blueberries and peaches. (But Good Earth offers mushroom and honey shares. What to do, what to do!)
I'll start my seedlings indoors under lights in March and giggle and clap and jump up and down like a six year-old given a Daily Pony every time I see a tender new shoot push up through the soil. (Would you believe me if I told you I used to read my mother's gardening encyclopedias when I was home sick from school in my youth? Aww, I knew you would!)
Someday I will have acres of gardens and chickens and a pig named Sal who lives in a pigloo. And maybe a beehive, too. And a pond that is home to a bullfrog named Morty. You can all come and visit me!
If you're interested in buying a produce or meat share from a local CSA, find one near you here: http://www.localharvest.org/.